The Oregon Trail: Relena's Journal
by Sieth Realder
Summary: Basically, I put characters I hate into the original Oregon Trail game and did my very best to kill them off. A warning: if you like Relena, I suggest you not read this. R&R!


Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, nor do I own the Oregon Trail game. The End.

**_Okay. Time for side notes. _**

**_Neori ;) already knows this, but you should all know why I did this fic. So here it is:_**

I was just playing the original Oregon Trail (yes, I'm outdated). Sometimes, when I play it, I pick the names of characters I don't like and spend the game doing my very best to kill them off. It's my little way of dealing with stress.

So guess what? I chose Gundam Wing characters I hate! And guess who was the leader of this little band, who got to suffer the most? That's right--Relena! And since the leader keeps a trail journal, I decided to...modify it a little.

(The other group members were: Mariemaia, Tubarov, Quinze, and Dekim Barton. Just in case you can't keep track of who dies.)

**_Another side note: This fic is dedicated to Neori, since she a) read it first, and b) is my sounding board for all of my GW-related fics. :waves to Neori:_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**_Sieth_**

* * *

**Relena's Trail Journal of Pink**

_(By Sieth Realder)_

**March 1, 1848**

We started down the trail with:

14 oxen

50 sets of clothing (there's no such thing as too many clothes...especially if they're pink)

2000 bullets

3 wagon wheels

3 wagon axles

3 wagon tongues

500 pounds of food

16 million boxes full of panda crap that some guy gave to me for free (:Wufei waves to Neori:)

We decided to ration the food in bare-bones portions. We will now travel at a more grueling pace, because I want to get to San Fran in time to straighten my hair for the Festival of Pink.

Wait a minute...what do you mean, we're not going to San Francisco?

**March 4, 1848**

I got really trigger-happy and shot 2445 pounds of meat...but because of technicalitites, we were able to carry back only 200 pounds of meat.

Quinze got lost. Then he found us 2 days later. Unharmed, too.

Damn. I tried so hard to lose him, too. He's so fugly, no one would miss him.

**March 6, 1848**

We have arrived at the Kansas River Crossing. Yay. Now, how do we get across without messing up my hair?

**March 7, 1848**

We had no trouble floating the wagon across. Damn.

Note to self:Trying to drownpeople doesn't seem to work very well.

**March 9, 1848**

We have arrived at the Big Blue River Crossing. The moisture's really getting to my hair.

**March 10, 1848**

The wagon tipped over while floating.

We lost:

4 sets of clothing--God DAMMIT!

Quinze (drowned)

Dekim (drowned)

Oh, well. At least SOMETHING good came out of it. We lost two of the oldest and fugliest guys in our group.

...Now that I think about it, all of the guys in our group are old and fugly. And then there's Mariemaia. She's such a whiny brat, she barely counts. I'm the only pretty one here.

I would have gotten Heero to come, but he simply INSISTED that he would be taking some business trip halfway around the world.

**March 13, 1848**

We have reached Fort Kearney. We decided to ration the food in meager portions. If I starve Mariemaia, then maybe she'll stop whining, the stupid little...

Tubarov has cholera. Yes!

**March 14, 1848 **

Tubarov has a broken arm. Even better.

**March 16, 1848**

We shot 11 pounds of meat.

Stupid birds.

**March 18, 1848**

We have reached Chimney Rock.

I don't see what's such a big deal about it.

**March 20, 1848**

We took the wrong trail and lost 4 days. I TOLD Tubarov it was a right and not a left, but you know fugly old men...they NEVER stop and ask for directions.

**March 21, 1848**

We shot 51 pounds of meat. Stupid antelopes. Why do they have to be so fast?

**March 22, 1848**

Mariemaia has dysentery. I hope she dies, and soon. She's even whinier than she was before.

If that's even possible.

**March 25, 1848**

We have reached Fort Laramie. I'd have bought new clothes, but none of them were pink. Why buy clothes if they're not pink?

**March 26, 1848**

Tubarov got sick and died. Finally, all the fugly old men are gone.

Now to start on Mariemaia.

**March 31, 1848**

Mariemaia died of typhoid. Thank God, I don't have to listen to her anymore.

**April 1, 1848 **

A thief stole 18 sets of my favorite clothing.

At least, he tried to. I shot him 20 times in the back with my shotgun.

And reloaded.

And shot him another 20 times.

...And then I realized that wasn't doing me or my stolen clothes any good. Especially my clothes, since by that point they were all drenched in the bastard's blood.

Oops.

**April 2, 1848 **

I have reached Independence Rock.

I decided to ration the food in filling portions. A girl should always pamper herself, after all, and not the fugly people around her.

**April 7, 1848**

I decided to drop 288 pounds of food. I'm on a diet, after all.

Bad water. As in, it's all mossy and gross. Ew.

**April 8, 1848**

Heavy fog. Lost 1 day. Oh, well. It doesn't matter when I get there, now that I know I'm not going to San Francisco.

I decided to drop 96 pounds of food. Still on that diet.

**April 12, 1848**

I have a fever. I hate this. My face is all puffy and red. Yuck.

What if Heero sees me like this?

**April 13, 1848**

Have I told everyone how much I suck?

**April 16, 1848**

I got sick and died. Now I can't see Heero anymore. Damn!

_In background, Heero with shovel: Yay! (does the happy dance)_

* * *

**_A side note, for any interested: _**For Relena's epitaph (because you KNOW my goal was to kill her off in the first place) was "Death sucks. Pink isn't allowed here." 

So. Didja like? I can do more of these, if anybody out there in the world really wants me to and isn't just humoring the little caffiene-high girl jumping up and down in the corner (i.e. me).


End file.
